


Man's Gotta Fight Temptation

by charonhenson



Series: Man's Gotta Fight Temptation [1]
Category: New Blood (TV)
Genre: And Costumes, Cause Stefan is sneaky, Lots of Washing Up, M/M, Roommates, Wrestling, also stefan gets shortened to 'stef' a lot, cause im lazy xo, cute domestic stuff, or "wrestling"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charonhenson/pseuds/charonhenson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stefan has nice eyes and a lot of props, for some reason. (They move in together and Rash immediately develops a hideously inappropriate crush on his roommate.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man's Gotta Fight Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> (Bonus points if Rash does the studio ghibli thing whenever Stefan makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.) (Bonus points if they both do.)

Stefan has a lot of random shit, Rash notices on moving day. Specifically, at least 2 boxes labelled 'Random Shit'. "Stef?"  
The other man pokes his head out of the kitchen, pausing the unpacking of the cutlery. "Hmm?"

Rash flips the box onto its side- nothing shatters, thankfully- and taps it with his index. "What's in here?"  
Stefan twists his mouth, then shrugs. "Dunno. Random shit, apparently." He goes back to carefully unwrapping spoons and placing them in an Ikea divider. 

Rash later finds out that the box mostly contains various props, including at least 12 pairs of fake glasses, 3 pairs of real ones, a tweed jacket, pilot's cap and a vacuum sealed bag of luminous vests. 

"What the fuck is all this?" 

Stefan is still gleefully rummaging through the box, yanking out one thing after another. "It's costume-y stuff! For when I have to sneak about." 

"Sneak abo- when do you ever sneak about? You couldn't sneak for your life."  
Stefan looks mortally offended. "I sneak about all the time! I was the driver for that politician guy, and I was an IT guy, and I was a-"  
Rash holds up his hand to stop him. "I get it.". He huffs, tiptoeing through the boxes to the kettle. "Also, most of that was probably illegal, so don't tell me about it." He throws a stern look at the other man, who scowls back. "Tea?"  
"Yes!" 

\---

"Ow! Fucking- kutas! Shit motherfuuuuuuuuuckeeehehehherr."  
Rash drops the magazine he was vaguely staring at and jogs to the kitchen, where Stefan is standing in an apron with a streaming red eye, flapping his hands frantically. "What's happened?"  
"There's dust or something in my eye!"  
"Hah. Baby."  
"Stop."  
"Well what am I supposed to do?"  
"I don't know, get it out? My hands are wet."  
Rash rolls his eyes and steps forward, gently peeling apart the others' eyelids with his thumbs. Upon closer inspection, a tiny speck of grit is nestled against the waterline. "I'm touching your eye, I can see it." Stef grimaces, but doesn't move away. 

Carefully, Rash runs the tip of his finger along the bottom lash, pinching the little dot of grit between his finger and thumb. He presents it to Stefan, who flicks it away.  
"Nice. Are my eyes red?" He widens his eyes comically and stares at Rash.

No, his eyes are not red, Rash thinks. They are, in fact, a rather nice hazel-green. He settles for "No," as that seems more diplomatic. Nodding, Stefan continues washing up. Rash slips away, quickly forgetting this small blip of thought.

\---

Rash is showering when he notices the sheer amount of bottles lining the side of the bath. Considering he was no longer living with Leila, he had figured it would be a while before he would witness more than 3 bottles of soap in the bathroom. It seems he had the wrong end of the stick, as Stefan has accumulated more fancy hair products than Leila could ever dream of. He picks up a small, flat pot. 

'Deep Conditioning Hair Mask with Aloe and Argan Oil for sleek, grease-free shine and instant texture!' 

He puts down the pot. 

He finishes showering. 

Whatever soap Stefan buys smells really good. Not that he steals Stefan's soap. Denial is key. 

\---

It's 7:00pm, so the sun is shining through the kitchen window into the flat in a way that could only happen in the summer. Stef is doing the washing up again- despite 2 months living together, the dishwasher is still on the fritz. Rash is flicking through channels on a low volume, eventually settling on some reality TV show that he doesn't pay attention to. 

"Rash, you're drying!"  
"Fiiiiiiiiiine." Rash shuffles into the kitchen, the domesticity of the whole situation striking him gently. Two and a half months ago, they had been tied up on a boat begging for their lives. Now, they were sharing washing-up duties. He snorts gently. 

"Huh?" Stef nudges him with his elbow as he peels the marigolds Leila donated off his hands and shucks off the apron. 

"Nothing." The corner of his mouth twitches, and he steals a peek at his roommate. The light is shining in at just the right angle that his eyes look like jade.  
Rash is so busy noticing this that he doesn't notice the tea towel shoved up under his nose for a good second, eventually plucking it from the others' fingers and turning away. Stefan gives him an odd look, but retires to the living room. A glimmered memory of grit in eyes taps at his mind.

"Your choice in TV is shit!"  
"So's my choice in roommates!"  
"Debil!"  
Rash feels warm. Not sure why. 

\---

Never try and put a shelf up alone. Stefan arrives home just in time to witness the end of a shelf swing down off the wall and smack Rash in the forehead. After laughing till he cries, he locates the first aid kit. 

"Why didn't you just wait till I got home? You know you're shit at DIY. Remember the Ikea chair."  
Rash does remember the Ikea chair- specifically, he remembers the Ikea chair that had 3 normal legs and one leg sticking straight out to the side. He'd wondered about the lack of fixings in the box. His head is still bleeding. 

Stefan peels an antiseptic wipe from the pack, kneeling in front of Rash where he's sat on the lid of the toilet. "This might sting." 

It stings like a bitch, but Rash just wrinkles his nose through it. Stef slaps a large plaster on it, the pale beige jarringly obvious against the skin.  
"Cheers."  
"S'alright!" Stef claps him on the knee as he stands. " 'Sides, it's never fun watching you bleed." 

Rash huffs through his nose, thinking back to all the times he'd bled in front of the other man. All the times they'd patched each other up. Stefan's hand slides off his leg as he walks away. 

Annoyingly, Rash's head tingles for the rest of the day- partly from the knock, partly from where Stefan had held back a few scraps of hair with the side of his hand. 

\---

Towels. All over the floor. All damp. 

Stefan, Rash has found, has a very, very annoying habit of simply dropping his towel vaguely near the heater. Since, you know, hanging it up takes too much effort. "Stef!"  
"Whassit?" Stefan shuffles in in a t-shirt and boxers. Boxer-briefs. Rash quickly looks up to his face. 

Stefan cocks an eyebrow, his eyelids still sagging. Rash waves his arm over the room.  
"What do you call this?"  
"Uh, the bathroom."  
"Not -" Rash jabs at the mountain of sad, wet towels. "This! Big wet pile of towels!"  
Stefan still looks blank.  
"They're on the floor!"  
"Yeah."  
"So?"  
"So what?"  
Rash groans in frustration, picking up one of the towels and tossing it at the other's face. "So- pick them up! Wash them or something!"  
Stefan huffs, but stoops to grab a large armful of towels- no small feat, since it was literally all the towels they had. He slowly, blindly pads out the door and heads toward the general direction of the washing machine. Rash follows him.  
"Don't just shove them in all at once either!" 

Stef looks up from where he was wrestling the entire pile into the washer.  
Rash sighs.  
"Coffee?"  
"YES." 

\---

The kettle is whistling when Rash hears Stefan coming out of the shower. "Tea?"  
"Yeah."  
As Rash is filling two mugs, Stef walks in and slides two slices of bread into the toaster. The morning sun shines through onto the pair. 

Rash looks up from the teabags to find Stefan clad in a single towel, hair still damp from washing it. A quick bristle of adrenaline runs up the line of his back. "Uh."  
"Yeah?" Stefan flicks an eye at him from where he is clumsily buttering toast.  
"No-. Nothing." Rash swallows, hands trembling just slightly as he hands a mug off to the other.  
"Cheers."  
"Yeah."  
Stefan leans on the edge of the table, getting crumbs everywhere as he balances eating toast and tea. Rash looks away, then looks back. He points at a spot on Stefan's chest, mouth dry. "You got crumbs."  
"Wh- oh." The man cranes his head down, brushing his hand over his abdomen to clean it. Unfortunately, this motion forces him to to push his hips forward as a counterbalance. Rash takes this as his cue to leave.  
"Bye!"  
Stef frowns, still picking crumbs off his chest. "Bit early!" Rash is already out the door, heart caught up in his throat. 

\---

It's Film Night. They've taken to having one every two weeks or so as a welcome break from their respective jobs. Rash still arrests bad guys. Stefan still sneaks about. It's a pressure release, a take-a-breath. 

Tonight, the film is John Wick. It has enough Keanu Reeves beating people up to keep them sated. Last time had been The Matrix. A theme is emerging. 

Halfway through the film, Stefan tangles his feet in with Rash's on their pitifully small sofa. This isn't a new occurrence, since personal space had disappeared with their disposable income- renting in London wasn't easy. In light of recent events however, Rash feels it's perfectly reasonable that the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the contact. 

Over their time together, Rash has developed a very odd side effect to spending any length of time with Stefan- that is, his hands start sweating profusely, while his mouth dries to a desert. Any physical contact leaves subtle goosebumps, making Rash feel restless and itchy. 

Rash has only ever experienced this one other time- in Year 5, when Sophie Wiley kissed him on the cheek and ran away. He'd trembled in excitement for a week. 

It's not a crush! Rash is way too old to be crushing on anyone. And yet- its the only thing that makes sense. Which is highly inconvenient. Anyone who's ever watched any film ever knows that fancying your roommate never goes anywhere good. 

He vows to suppress it. After all, it's only some dumb fixation, probably a result of them living together. Can't go too wrong. 

\---

It can, and will, go horribly wrong. 

Rash and Stefan fight a lot. It's just how they are. While Rash attempts to remain calm and rational, Stef insists on being a twat at every opportunity. Hence, they fight a lot. Verbally and physically. 

Today, Stefan forgot to buy milk, instead buying a fedora ("More disguises, Rash! Never bad!"). Rash had taken this as an acceptable reason to shove his left shoulder back in frustration.

Two seconds later, Stefan had kicked him in the ankle.  
Two minutes later, they were wrestling each other on the floor. 

By the time Stef has kneed Rash in the head and Rash has accidentally stuck a finger in Stefan's nose, they are both out of breath. Stefan eventually gets the upper hand, sitting on Rash's chest in triumph. "Hah! I win!"  
"Never!" Rash begins shoving at Stefan's legs. Stefan grabs his wrists and pushes his hands to either side of his head, which means he is now leaning over Rash's face. Uh oh.

"Say uncle!"  
"Fuck you." Rash spits.  
"Say it!" Stefan is close enough that his breath tickles Rash's face. He squints, then peeks up at Stef. The other's eyes are very, very close. They flicker down briefly before locking with his. Rash takes a deep breath, and Stefan seems to tip forward slightly closer. The door opens, startling them both.  
"Oh! Uh..."  
Leila is stood in the doorway, a white plastic bag clutched in her hand. Stefan scrambles off of Rash. Rash scrambles off of the floor, hurrying to the bathroom.  
"I bought takeaway!" Leila calls behind him.  
"Yep!" Rash shuts the door behind him. He can hear Stefan stammering about "It's a boy thing?" and "It wasn't. You know.". Leila's incredulous eyebrow almost echoes to him through the door. 

Well. That was... close. 

Stefan had probably just lost his balance! He was imagining things. 

All in his head. He splashes cold water on his face, and sighs. 

\---

They are absolutely and undoubtably drunk. Rash vows to never try and keep up with Stefan's friends again. He probably should have learned from the Gulliver incident that Polish rectified spirit was absolutely lethal. 

The two stumble through the door, giggling about nothing in particular, though a little about Jan's terrible dancing. Stefan trips up on the threshold, sending them into another round of drunken snickering. They flop onto the sofa, which seems even smaller than before. Rash sighs, head lolling against the cushions. His head rolls a little too far, coming to rest on Stefan's shoulder.  
"Get off."  
"No." Rash presses his face in harder.  
"You're bio, you're v-violating my personal space here."  
"This flat is tiny man. There's no personal space. Ever."  
Rash swings his legs up onto Stefan's lap to prove his point. 

"Is that why you steal my soap?"  
"What?" Rash looks up at Stef, who is holding back a smirk. "I don't. I don't steal your soap."  
"Sure. It just disappears into the night."  
"Exactly. I don't steal it." He jabs his finger against Stefan's ear. "Denial is key."  
"Denial is-" Stefan splutters with laughter, which sends Rash into fits of giggles. They both stay like this, draped over each other and shaking with the ridiculousness. Eventually, Rash wipes his eyes and shunts himself forward.  
"I'll go brush my teeth first.".  
Stefan grunts noncommittally in reply. 

Rash is scrubbing away the taste of alcohol when he feels a light pressure on the back of his neck; Stefan is standing behind him, forehead rested against the line of his shoulders. He chuckles. "Tired?".  
"Mmph.".  
In the mirror, Rash watches him shrug. He rinses toothpaste out of his mouth and turns around, which pitches Stef forward into his personal space. "Oop."  
Stefan quickly recovers from the near-headbutt, rocking back, but he doesn't step away. Their feet are slotted into the same small block of space, keeping them close together. Rash swallows nervously. 

Stefan smiles at him dopily, eyes soft. He glances down, then back up. Wets his lips. Rash can feel his heart start pounding in the back of his chest. Stef tilts forward, too far to be an accident. At the last second, Rash closes his eyes. 

The kiss itself isn't earth-shattering- a simple, dry press of lips to lips, nothing more. Inside Rash's heavily inebriated mind, sirens are whirring like a bomb's been detonated. 

After a pause or two, Stefan pulls back. Rash opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again with a click. Stef blinks lazily. 

"Um." Rash stares determinedly at the space between Stefan's eyebrows, still swaying slightly. "Okay."  
"Yeah?" Stefan replies.  
"Yep." Rash risks looking Stefan in the eye. He finds the other staring straight back at him. 

Two seconds later, they meet in the middle.  
Two minutes later, Rash is pressed uncomfortably against the cool ridge of the sink. Fortunately, he is both still drunk and absolutely distracted. Stefan is running his tongue along his bottom lip- albeit rather clumsily- which is sending shivers up his spine.  
He opens his mouth a little in response, hand slipping off of the sink edge and sliding up Stef's arm to grip at his shoulder. Stefan moves one hand to the nape of his neck and scratches gently at the hair there, making him inhale sharply through his nose.  
He pulls back to catch his breath and take a look at Stefan, who looks wrecked. His lips are red and slightly swollen. His eyes are glazed. They're both still very, very drunk, and Rash's heart suddenly drops with panic at the idea that Stefan might not be totally aware of what they are doing. 

"I should go to bed."  
Stefan frowns. "Huh?" 

Rash slides out from between Stefan and the sink, detaching his hand, and stumbles out of the bathroom, leaving Stefan behind with his hand still hovering in the air. 

\---

In the morning, Rash is slumped at the kitchen table in his suit, wrestling a headache personally moulded by the Devil and nursing a coffee. He is also still thinking about the kiss, because. What. 

Did Stefan kiss him first? Did he mean to kiss him first? Is he gay? Or bi? Was Rash gay, or bi or whatever? (That one had pretty much been answered last night- a resounding 'or whatever'.). Did Stef hate him now? 

Did he want to do it again?

Rash shuts that train of thought down, not wanting to risk that kind of thinking. Hell, how likely was that really? It was probably just some drunken mistake. He was pretty sure Stefan still has a thing for Leila. Thinking about that brings up a wave of mild nausea, and he grips his coffee slightly tighter. 

The sound of rustling from Stefan's room spurs him into standing up and grabbing at his bag. The quick motion sends his head into a spin, but he ignores it in favour of tripping out of the flat. Stefan's call of "Rash?" follows him out the door as it swings shut. 

He'll talk to him when he gets home. Maybe. 

\---

Or tomorrow. 

\---

Sometime this week, maybe. 

\---

Okay, even Rash has to admit he's avoiding Stefan. Almost every time they'd nearly talked, Rash had scrambled for some excuse to leave the room, each alibi more and more desperate. He winces at the memory of yesterday's. "I have to... clean my shoes." Christ. 

Stefan probably thinks he hates him. Rash just really, really hates being let down easy.  
'Sorry mate... we were drunk, right?'  
'I just don't- go that way, you know?'  
'We can still be friends! Obviously.'  
Rash grits his teeth. 

He opens the door of the flat. Stefan's not home, thankfully. He sighs and heads into the kitchen. A small note stuck to the fridge catches his eye, and he peels it off. 

Gone 4 drinks with Leila  
Back later  
-S

Rash crumples the note in his hand. Right. That was probably the let-down he'd been trying to avoid, in a convenient post-it note format. 

Fuck. Of course he still liked Leila! There'd been this whole... thing, right up till they'd moved in together. Rash had figured Stef had dropped it then. Apparently not.

It was supposed to be Film Night tonight. Rash grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes. This is probably his fault. This is definitely his fault, actually. 

Rash slides Chain Reaction into the DVD player, and watches it alone. 

\---

At 11:30pm, someone knocks on the door. Rash is on Matrix: Revolutions, and is grateful for an excuse to leave the sofa. It's shit. Rash pads over to the door. 

When he opens it, he is greeted by Stefan, shivering on the doorstep. He's soaked to the bone. 

"Hey." Stefan greets, squinting at him through the rain that's still drizzling down. Rash doesn't reply. 

"I uh. Think we might need to talk? About... stuff?"

Rash steps aside to let the other in, wherein he promptly shucks his coat and shoes while Rash shuts the door. He proceeds to stand there, jiggling up and down on his feet. Rash endures this for a second before snapping. "You gonna talk then?" 

Stefan stops jiggling, and breathes in. 

"Right. Look, I- please don't interrupt, cause I've got a thing to say, but I didn't know how to say it, which is why I asked Leila to help, but she just called me stupid, which- yeah. Anyway," He pauses, then carries on. "I- I don't regret kissing you. I actually wanted to kiss you. Because I like you, like like-like you, even though you're a dick and use up all my shower gel. Um. I didn't say anything before, cause we live together and I didn't want to make things weird, and I know you probably don't feel the same, but- mmph."

Rash has slapped a hand over Stefan's mouth, eyes wide and brow furrowed. What. "You like me?" 

Stefan winces, but nods.  
"No. No, you don't like me, I'm the one who likes you."  
Stefan frowns, and pulls Rash's hand away. "Wha-"  
"But then I didn't say anything," Rash continues, "because we live together. And I didn't want to make it weird." 

"...So," Stefan says haltingly, "You. And I as well- Wh- Huh." 

Rash chews his lip. Stef looks thoughtful. They meet eyes. 

"Guess that settles that then." 

"Yeah." Rash replies. 

Stefan hesitantly raises his hand for a high-five. Rash stares at it. Stefan slowly lets it fall back to his side, dropping his head.

"Now what?" Rash asks. Stef looks at him, and he feels the familiar bristle of adrenaline along his spine. 

Two seconds later, they meet in the middle.  
Two minutes later, Rash has Stefan pressed against the front door, hands gripping his waist like a vice. Stef is clawing at the base of his scalp again, making his head spin. They kiss again, and again and again. Stefan breaks away to catch his breath for a second, which Rash uses as an excuse to start mouthing along the other's neck. Stef gasps, pulling him closer.

"We should- ah! We should probably move."  
Rash sees his point- they're still in the landing, with Matrix menu music blaring in the background. He pulls away. "Where?" 

Stefan puzzles, then raises his eyebrows. "My room?" Rash shrugs, and quickly hops into the living room to turn off the TV. Upon stepping out, he sees Stefan posing faux-seductively by the open door to his room, and snorts. "Come on then." Rash leads the way, tugging Stefan in behind him. They sit down on the bed. 

There's an heavy beat of silence in which neither of them act. Rash breaks this by awkwardly placing his hand on Stefan's leg. 

Stefan starts laughing. Rash follows.  
"We're so stupid!" Rash wheezes.  
"I can't believe neither of us noticed anything." Stefan replies, creasing up.  
"Yeah! Like," Rash says, "I was so obvious! I was stealing your soap!"  
"I was walking around half-naked all the time!" Stefan giggles.  
"That was on purpose?!"  
"'Course it was, you knob!"  
"Fuck me, man." 

They both slowly stop laughing. 

Stefan gulps. "Yeah?"  
"Well. Uh." The hand on Stefan's leg curls into a fist. "I mean, not. Not right now."  
"Oh, no, no, course not." Stefan halts. "But. In future..."  
"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be." Rash takes a deep breath in. "Good."  
Stefan's breath shakes in his chest. 

"Do you want to do anything... right now?"  
"Yeah." Rash replies, too fast. 

Stefan grins, leaning in to kiss Rash's neck below his ear. The air escapes him in a shaky rush, and Rash opens his hand to grips Stefan's inseam. Stef shifts round till he can push Rash back onto the bed, pulling himself to hover over the other between his legs. He is still kissing his neck, open-mouthed now so Rash can feel the heat of his mouth. A graze of his teeth makes Rash gasp and arch upward, so he bites down. 

Rash cries out, hands splayed over Stefan's back, and pulls their hips together instinctively, which makes Stefan groan. They grind against each other frantically, Rash clawing at Stef's back like he can't quite bring him close enough. Eventually, he gains the presence of mind to bring one hand round to fumble at Stefan's belt buckle, trying shakily to undo it. Stefan stops to help him, sliding the coarse leather away. 

There's a tense pause when Stef's trousers come down, in which neither of them are quite sure how to act now. Rash decides on hesitantly cupping the front of Stefan's boxers, which makes him inhale sharply and start tugging on the buttons on Rash's shirt. Encouraged, he presses the heel of his hand down, massaging him gently. Stefan is almost panting as he finally undoes the last button on Rash's shirt. 

"Shit," he breathes as he slides the shirt off Rash's shoulders. "Shit, fuck."  
Rash laughs gently, then stutters as Stefan latches his mouth onto his exposed collarbone. He runs his fingers through the hair on the back of Stefan's head, letting himself sink into the closeness of it all. Stefan kisses once, twice, slowly trailing down his chest. Rash cranes his head to look.  
"Where you going?"  
Stefan glances up at him. "Where'd you think?"  
Rash drops his head back on the mattress, clenching his jaw. Oh.  
By the time Stefan has reached his belt line, Rash is in a state, biting his knuckle in anticipation. Stefan has paused. Rash looks down at him. 

"Everything alright down there?" 

Stefan looks like a deer caught in headlights.  
"Yep." 

Rash props himself up on his elbows. "You know, you don't have to- do anything. I won't mind if you want to stop."  
"No, no, I-" Stefan hesitates. "Yeah. I mean," as Rash goes to sit up fully, "I do want to. It just... might take me a while."  
Rash examines Stef's face for any panic, but he looks sure of himself. Ish. He sits back. "Ok. Only if you're sure!" 

Stefan rolls his eyes and loosens Rash's belt with shaky fingers that Rash pretends not to notice, trusting him to know his boundaries. They both seem to breathe in at the same time, for entirely different reasons. Rash squeezes his eyes shut, and Stef drags down his jeans. 

"...Ok."  
Rash frowns. "'Ok'? What's 'Ok'?" He lifts his head. Stefan is just... looking at his dick. He doesn't look horrified, which is a relief. He also doesn't look overjoyed, which is not. 

"Do you want to stop?" 

"No." Stefan is still staring at his- yeah. "Just give me a sec." 

Right. 

Rash lies back on the bed, waiting patiently. It takes about 10 counts for him to feel a hand carefully grasping his length. He shudders subtly. The hand stays still for a moment, then moves slightly. Even the dry, benign contact has him biting his tongue. Stefan slowly picks up the pace, grip still loose. Rash hears him snigger to himself. 

"Why're you laughing?"  
"Nothing, just- this is so weird! It's like touching yourself, but at a really weird angle."  
"Well could you try not to laugh? You can see why I might get worried if you're having a giggle down there."  
"Right, yeah. Hah." 

Rash grimaces, then chokes as he feels hot breath graze against him. It's followed by the gentlest pressure of Stefan's mouth against the very tip. The air whooshes out of him in a rush as he's suddenly enveloped by soft, wet heat. "Shit!" 

Stefan hums around him, mostly mouthing at the top parts of him, and he grips the duvet in his hands. One sneaks up to the top of Stefan's head, petting at the hair as his head bobs slightly. 

Considering foreplay had basically lasted a month, Rash isn't surprised when he can feel himself getting near the edge pretty quickly. Over the last few minutes, Stefan had gotten more confident, and was currently giving him one of the most unskilled yet enthusiastic blowjobs he'd ever had. He taps at the other man's scalp to warn him. "I'm- you might want to slow down a bit." 

Stefan just goes down farther in response, squeezing his thigh. Rash, taking that as permission, bites down on a muffled shout and shudders as his climax washes over him. When he stops shivering, Stefan sits up, wiping at his mouth with a grimace. 

"Christ. Eat some pineapple next time." 

"Shut it- you still haven't gotten off yet. Don't bite the hand that feeds you."  
"I'm perfectly capable of getting myself off without you!" Stefan retorts, but crawls up to lie at eye level with Rash and pecks him on the cheek. "Now get me off." 

Rash rolls his eyes, but shifts onto his side to slide his hand into Stefan's boxers. Stef was right- it does feel weird. The familiarity of having a dick in your hand, and the strangeness of it not being your own. He pulls his hand out to lick at his hand, remembering the lack of lubrication from his own experience, and gets to work. 

Within minutes, Stefan is gasping for breath, forehead pressed against Rash's, who feels weirdly proud. He's the one making Stefan feel good.  
Stefan suddenly grips his arm tight, eyes squeezing shut as he comes. Rash strokes him through it, watching Stefan's face change from almost pained to relieved to relaxed. He pulls his hand out of Stefan's pants and wipes it surreptitiously on the boxer fabric, which Stefan protests at.  
"At least I cleaned up after myself!"  
"Didn't really have a choice, did you?" 

Rash smirks. Stefan shoves at his waist, but stays lying next to him. 

"Your turn next time."  
Rash rolls his eyes, and pulls Stef in closer. 

"Dick."

**Author's Note:**

> LONGEST THING IVE EVER WRITTEN. (Also the first time i've written anything sexual) (ever) (wild i know)
> 
> Polish translations:  
> kutas- 'dick'  
> debil- 'idiot/moron'
> 
> I have a Polish friend who helped me out but correct me if I'm wrong! 
> 
> EDIT: thank you to u/kareno for the Polish correction!


End file.
